A Rolling Stone
by Leesa Perrie
Summary: AU. Teenage Rodney McKay comes from a difficult background. Can his cousin help him?


**AU A Rolling Stone**

**By Leesa Perrie**

_This is a definite AU. No ifs, not buts, no maybes. No 'it wasn't an AU when I started it, but new episodes have made it one', not even a 'AU after episode something or other'. No, this is an AU series that starts before Atlantis. This first part is about McKay's childhood - no sister, for a start – and is a kid fic. Later parts deal with him as an adult. You have been warned!_

_Oh, and this part was inspired by a line from 'Bouncing off the Walls' by Sugercult:_

_'Momma and Daddy's got the best cocaine'_

* * *

When he was nine, his parents packed up a few belongings and bought a campervan, heading onto the road with him in tow. They never explained why, and in the end he stopped asking; just accepted that life had changed.

He'd only had a few friends in Vancouver, but he missed them. He wasn't allowed to write to them or keep in touch. A new life, his parents told him, meant leaving the old life behind, completely. A total break from the past, and a new beginning.

But he hated his new life. They moved from place to place, taking odd jobs here and there, and staying maybe one or two weeks at a time. A couple of times they'd stayed for a month. Once even, they had stayed for two whole months. But normally, they were gone within a fortnight.

If anyone asked about his schooling, his parents told them that they were home tutoring him. They were good liars, unlike himself, so he let them answer these questions.

The truth was that all he learnt came from the books he read in libraries. Or was lent by passing strangers. Or he was able to buy when on those odd occasions he was able to earn money by clearing people's yards, or helping around the house. Odd jobs, like his parents. Even then, his parents wanted all the money he earned, and he had to be careful not to keep much back from them; just a few cents here and there. So it took time for him to save up for a book, and he had to pretend someone gave it to him, or hide it from them.

They usually realised the truth, though, and his dad would use the belt on him. But it was worth the pain. He was a bright child, inquisitive, and yearned for knowledge all the time. To learn more, know more. Physics was his first love, though maths was a close second. He wished he could have learned to play the piano, loving classical music the few times he got to hear it.

It was a hard life, always moving on, never making friends, never having enough money, enough food, enough clothes.

When he was eleven, they crossed the border. They entered the US as vacationers, and stayed. Moving on, as before, and now with the added problem of being in the country illegally. But no one ever suspected they weren't there legally, or if they did, they never did anything about it.

At night, his parents would go out and go drinking. There was always money for that, even when he was shivering because he didn't have a coat that fit him. Or when he was hungry because there was no food in the van. He suspected they took drugs, like pot, but he never asked. He had once, when he was younger, and that had led to a beating. He knew better now, and never questioned them about anything.

When he was thirteen, they settled in San Francisco for a while. This time they stayed for four months, before moving on down to Los Angeles. They stayed there for six months. He wondered at the change, but didn't dare to ask. Money was more available now, he noted, not that he saw much more of it than before.

And his parents changed before his eyes.

They ate less but became more alert, energetic; manic even. And then that changed too, and they became paranoid and easy to irritate, resulting in more beltings from his dad, and more arguments between his parents. Their health was suffering, and it came as no big surprise when he came home to the van and found his mom taking cocaine. After that, they no longer tried to hide it from him, but threatened him into silence.

They moved around the city a lot, parking in car parks or side streets for one night before moving to a new spot. It made it hard for him to find the local library, and he was always afraid that he would come back to find the van gone. That they would abandon him completely. As bad as life with them was, he was more terrified to be alone, on the streets, or sent into care.

But they didn't abandon him the way he had feared. Instead, he came home from the library one day, to see police surrounding the van. He hung back, too scared to go closer. He listened to the bystanders, heard there had been shots fired, that the people inside were dead, murdered.

There were talk of drugs deals gone wrong, or maybe a jealous husband or wife, or a myriad of other things. He didn't know which was true. He was too afraid to move, frozen in place.

Time passed; the bystanders started to drift away. He saw two body bags moved to a waiting ambulance. And now he moved; not towards the van, or the cops, but away. He walked, and then ran, and just kept running, tears streaming down his face. He ran until he couldn't run anymore, leaning panting against a wall. When he came back to himself, he didn't know where he was; didn't recognise the neighbourhood.

It was getting dark.

And he didn't know where to go. He had no home now. No parents.

That night he slept behind a dumpster in an alley, huddled up and out of sight. He didn't know what to do, where to go, or who to trust. He was alone; no family, no friends. And if it was drugs… was he a target too?

His sleep was far from peaceful, and yet somehow he slept.

* * *

The next day, he managed to find his way back to where the van had been parked. He didn't know why, but he wanted to see it again; to make it real.

And maybe there'd be a chance to grab some of his things. Or not.

It had taken him most of the day to find his way back, and he was expecting the van to be gone by now.

It wasn't.

There was a tow truck and some cops, and he watched as they hooked the van up to the truck.

Something inside of him made him approach the scene. He hadn't expected one of the officers to recognise him, but remembered the few photos that were in the van, of his parents and him. They were part of convincing people they were a normal, happy family.

The officer spoke to him, but he didn't hear the words. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but all he could see was the van, and the blood that was being cleared from the street. He was only vaguely aware of being guided into the back of a police car. And then the scenery was changing, and the van was gone. The blood too.

One of the officers in the car thought he was in shock. That made sense, he supposed. Was this what shock was like? He watched the scenery go by, lost in thoughts; what would happen to him now? Where would they send him? Would anyone want him? The son of druggies…it was hardly a selling point. He figured no one would really want him, and resigned himself to being passed around foster homes, or orphanages, maybe a mix of both, until the system kicked him out.

It struck him suddenly. He was an orphan. Fourteen; a teenager that no one would want. Who would take in a teenager, when they could have a baby, or even a younger child? Even his parents hadn't really wanted him, so why would a stranger? He knew of no other family, and even if there was some out there somewhere, they wouldn't know him, or want him either. He had never felt quite so alone, or unwanted, before.

In the back seat of a police car, Meredith Rodney McKay broke down in tears, and for the first time in his hard life, wished he was dead.

* * *

He was handed over to a couple of homicide detectives when they reached the police department, and a female officer stayed with him as well. They gave him something to eat and drink, and had a doctor check him over. Which revealed the scars on his back, and some bruising.

Gentle questioning coaxed him to tell them how his father sometimes hit him with a belt, or sometimes just with his hands, and that it had gotten much worse the last year.

Further questioning made it clear that he didn't know his parents had been drug pushers, although he'd suspected it when he'd found out they were on cocaine, but had been too afraid to say anything. His father had threatened him if he said anything about the addiction to anyone, and it wasn't like he had anyone to turn to for help anyway.

He discovered that his parents had been suspected of drug running in Canada, and that they had run before the police could arrest them. It explained why they had been moving all the time, and why they avoided the authorities whenever possible.

After the detectives were finished, a lady from child services came to take him to a temporary foster home, but before she led him away, he asked the detectives if he could have his books from the campervan. They said they would see what they could do. He knew they probably thought it was a strange thing to ask about, after losing his parents, but he had worked hard to earn enough to buy them, and had suffered beatings for some of them as well. They were the only things that were truly his.

His temporary foster parents were called Marcy and Bob Tyler, and had a nice house in a nice suburb. He supposed they were nice people too. Not that it mattered; it was all temporary. Like it always would be now, until he was old enough to make it on his own.

* * *

It was a couple of days later that Marcy told him that child services had tracked down an aunt, his mother's sister, and that they were contacting her about him. He hadn't known about his aunt, but it didn't matter. He knew she wouldn't want him. Who would? Though a part of him couldn't help hoping he was wrong.

A day later, and the lady from child services was back, with photos of his aunt and her family. She had moved to the US, married an Air Force officer, who was a Colonel now, and had a son.

So, he had an aunt, an uncle and a cousin.

The lady told him they were coming for his parents' funeral, and that they wanted to meet him. He supposed that could be a good sign; that they wanted to see him, but he wasn't sure he wanted to meet them, not if he was to be rejected.

And he was sure he would be; rejected.

* * *

The funeral was strange. He felt disconnected from it all. He'd been told that his uncle and aunt had paid for it, though it was still very basic. Sitting in the chapel, he listened to the hollow words spoken about his parents; no speaking ill of the dead, so it was all superficial and without meaning.

After the cremation, Marcy and Bob led him to his uncle, aunt and cousin, and made the introductions. He didn't speak to them, embarrassed by his aunt's tears, and wishing he was anywhere else right then, and keeping his eyes firmly on the ground. No tears from him. They probably thought he was a horrid person, not crying at his parents' funeral. But he couldn't cry.

Shortly after that, his foster parents drove him back to their home, with them, his only family, following behind. But he didn't wait for them to arrive, instead he went to his temporary room, and left his temporary foster parents to talk to his uncle, aunt and cousin when they arrived a few minutes later.

They would probably talk about his lack of social skills, his lack of formal schooling, and all the other things he lacked. And then his uncle and aunt would say 'sorry, but we can't take on someone like that' and would leave, and he'd never see them again. Then he'd be sent back to Canada to play pass the parcel around their child services, with him as the parcel. Oh, and of course, with _this _parcel not being wanted by the recipients.

Sitting on his temporary bed, in his temporary room, in his temporary home, he waited for his temporary foster parents to come and tell him the bad news.

So when his cousin, whose name he hadn't caught, entered the room with a smile and a far too cheery 'hey', he was surprised, and instantly wary.

"Oh-kay," the boy said with a lazy smile. "Don't say hi then."

He narrowed his eyes, feeling uncomfortable at the way his cousin was watching him, and feeling relieved when he turned away and started checking out the books on the shelf.

"Hey, Lord of the Rings. Cool. Oh, Applied Physics. Not so cool. But the astronomy book looks good… Hey, who's your favourite in the Rings? Mine is Samwise, oh, and Frodo. Though Gandalf is pretty cool, being able to do all that magic stuff."

"Why don't you just go away?" Rodney said quietly. "There's no point in trying to get to know me, your parents are out there being told about all my 'problems' and then they'll be gone, and I'll be sent wherever child services decide."

"What? Hey, no, you're wrong there. My parents have already started the process of adopting you, Meredith."

"Rodney," he snapped. "I prefer Rodney." He couldn't let himself believe what this kid had said; he must be wrong. Why would anyone want him?

"Can't say I blame you. Meredith's a sucky name to give a boy, if you ask me. Rodney sounds much better."

"Why are they…I mean, no one would want me."

"You're family. That's what family are supposed to be for, you know, helping each other out. Don't know what went wrong between my mom and your mom, but that's not what family's about," the kid paused, and then smiled, his excitement coming through. "And I can't wait to have someone to hang out with. I always wanted a younger brother," he looked outside, into the back yard. "Hey, they have a hoop out there. Wanna go play?"

Rodney was struggling to keep up with his cousin. They wanted to take him in, and this kid was excited about it? He sighed, they'd soon change their minds, he figured. Soon realise they'd made a mistake. Still, it couldn't be worse than the life his parents had given him.

"I…don't know how to…"

"Come on, I'll show you. It'll be fun."

His cousin pulled him gently yet firmly from the room, and through the kitchen to the back door, shucking off his jacket and tie, and undoing the top buttons on his shirt.

"Not ideal clothes, but who cares?" he said, finding a basketball lying to one side of the back yard. Rodney watched uncertainly as the kid, and damn it, he was going to have to ask the boy his name, started to dribble to ball back and forth, and then threw it through the hoop, no problem.

After much cajoling, Rodney had a go. He wasn't very coordinated with the ball, but soon started to get the hang of moving whilst bouncing it. But his attempts to shoot the ball through the hoop weren't so good. After the sixth failed attempt, he gave up and stomped away, muttering about how it was a stupid game anyway.

His cousin intercepted him, and with some wheedling managed to get him to take a few more tries. The second of these went through the hoop, and Rodney stood there in stunned silence.

"See? It's just a case of practice," his cousin said.

"I suppose," he replied hesitantly. "What's your name? I know they introduced us, but…"

"You weren't paying much attention? That's okay. I'm John," he said, sticking out his hand. "You're supposed the shake it, you know."

"Oh, um, okay," he shook John's hand quickly. "Um, your parents…"

"Grace and James Sheppard. Dad's a Colonel in the Air Force, Mom used to teach, but she's in between jobs right now. Dad was posted to Travis, a base near Fairfield, recently so we've only just moved there. But he says it looks like we'll be there for a few years, maybe even until he retires, which will be nice for a change."

"Oh. So you're an Air Force brat?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna join up too. I want to fly, and the Air Force has the coolest jets, and helicopters. What about you? Whatcha want to do?"

"I…I want to be a physicist. Maybe do something with astrophysics. Not really thought about it much." And he hadn't given his future much thought. It wasn't like his parents would have paid for college, and he wasn't expecting his uncle and aunt to be willing to do that either. Thinking about his future was depressing; he would end up in a dead end, low paid job somewhere, if he was lucky.

"Sounds good, if that's what you want. Hey, wanna shoot a few more hoops?" His cousin said, unaware of Rodney's pessimistic thoughts.

He agreed hesitantly.

"Okay."

* * *

The adults had finished their discussion, and wandered into the kitchen, looking for the boys.

"I think your son is going to be good for Meredith," Bob said, looking out the window at them playing basketball together.

"He's smiling!" Marcy exclaimed. "He's been here nearly a week, and he's never smiled, not once."

"John's good with other kids," James Sheppard said with obvious pride.

"I can tell," Bob nodded. "I'm glad you're taking Meredith in. He needs a stable environment if there's any hope of him overcoming his problems."

"I'm sure we can help him," Grace looked out at the boys. "I've dealt with children from all walks of life in the various teaching jobs I've had in the past, some of them from very bad neighbourhoods. Even did a few courses in child psychology."

"I don't think he's a bad person," Marcy said quietly. "I think he's in shock still, and with all the moving around his parents did, he hasn't had much chance to learn about friendship, or even simple social skills. He's smart, though, despite his lack of formal education. He has a few physics and mathematic books that you'd expect to see at college level, and I'm sure he understands them."

"I have some tests I can do with him when we get home, and then I'll make suitable lesson plans for him. I have a feeling throwing him into a school wouldn't be good for him, so I'll home tutor him for a while," Grace explained.

"Maybe we should call them in?" James suggested. "We need to go back to the hotel and get changed. Would it be alright to pick him up an hour from now? I thought we could take him out for lunch."

"That would great," Bob said.

* * *

John and his parents had gone back to the hotel, though they were coming back later. He took the chance to get out of the suit his foster parents had hired for him for the funeral, and change into his old jeans, blue t-shirt, and battered sneakers, and then slumped onto his bed, with the Fellowship of the Ring. He hadn't read it for over a year now, and he wanted to re-read it; maybe answer his cousin's question. He'd never really thought about who his favourite, or favourites, might be. Probably Gandalf, not so much for the magic, as for the knowledge the old guy had. And the fact he was so well loved. He wanted to be like that one day; knowledgeable and loved. Able to fix problems, not with magic though, with science.

* * *

They asked him where he wanted to go for lunch, like he had any idea. He was used to going to the cheapest stores around and buying food that had been reduced due to being short dated, or even out of date; chips, candy, pop, the occasional sandwich, or tin of something or other and battered looking fruit. He'd learned not to be picky, as it was usually the not so popular foods that ended up reduced, though he had to be careful because of the citrus allergy that had annoyed his parents so much.

Now and then he'd buy himself a burger and fries, but it often wiped out his money for that day, and meant he couldn't have anything else, unless he was doing odd jobs for someone later, and then he'd sometimes get cookies, cake or something.

Maybe a diner would be okay, or a burger place.

His foster parents suggested a diner that they liked, and he shrugged.

Of course, once at the diner, he didn't know what to have. He looked at the menu, unsure of how much they'd be willing to spend, and whether it was polite to choose one of the cheapest things on the menu, or not. John ordered a burger with fries and the works, his uncle ordered the same and his aunt went for an omelette. Aware they were waiting for him, and that the waitress was hovering nearby impatiently, he knew he had to hurry and just choose something, but what?

"It's okay, just choose what you want," Grace said gently, aware of his nervousness.

"Um…burger and fries," he stuttered out.

"What about something to drink?" Grace asked.

"Um…cola."

The order given, he fidgeted in his seat, painfully aware of being watched and afraid of messing things up.

James started up a conversation about football, which John entered into eagerly, and even Grace seemed genuinely interested in. He relaxed a little as the conversation flowed around him, though he was fervently hoping they didn't ask him anything. He only had the vaguest knowledge of football, or any other sport really. Just what he could remember from his few years in school, and what he had heard from others over the last few years and hadn't paid much attention to.

The food came, and he ate quickly. Perhaps too quickly, he thought, seeing an amused look thrown his way by John. He forced himself to slow down, and kept his head down as the conversation moved onto basketball, though muted now as everyone ate.

He finished his food first, even with slowing himself down, but no one commented. A new fear asserted itself. He'd been happy to let the conversation go on around him, grateful not to be dragged into it, but what if they thought badly of his silence? He really didn't want to mess up his one chance of having a home, a family, but he didn't know what to talk say, or do.

"Can we go to Baskin Robbins for ice cream?" John asked brightly.

"Well…okay, why not?" James replied, looking to Rodney. "Is that okay with you?"

"Um…yeah," he said nervously.

"Mmm, it's been awhile since I had any decent ice cream," Grace said with a dreamy look on her face. "Do you have a favourite?" she asked Rodney. "I just love their Chocolate Fudge."

"I…" he paused. "That sounds nice."

He didn't want to admit that he'd only had ice cream a few times, and he couldn't remember having anything but vanilla.

"I love their Peanut Butter 'n Chocolate," John said, almost salivating at the thought.

"Mint Chocolate Chip for me," James smiled. "Or else their Lemon Sorbet, when it's available."

"Can't have that," Rodney said automatically. "Allergic to citrus."

"Bet there's lots you can have, though," John nudged his arm.

"Um…yeah," he said uncertainly and getting uncomfortable with the attention.

Conversation lagged for a few minutes, and then the check was paid and they went to locate the nearest Baskin Robbins. Once there, he was amazed at the choice of ice creams and desserts available, and he was sure it didn't go unnoticed by his…family. Hopefully his family, anyway. If he didn't mess it up.

Eventually, he decided to try the Chocolate Fudge that his aunt obviously loved.

It was wonderful. John let him have a taste of his ice cream, as did his uncle. They were both wonderful as well.

"Not been somewhere like this before, have you?" Grace asked, smiling at his reaction to the food and the place.

"No," he admitted reluctantly, not wanting to seem even stranger than he already did.

"Well, then, we'll have to bring you here again, so you can try some of the other flavours too," James said, and John's eyes lit up at that.

"That would be so cool…pun intended," John grinned. Rodney couldn't stop the groan at the terrible pun, and just hoped he hadn't upset his cousin with it.

"You'll have to get used to John's poor sense of humour," James said, grinning at his son.

"It runs in the family," Grace said, looking at her husband with a raised eyebrow. "His side of the family."

"So…you really are going to…" Rodney paused, unsure whether to ask or not.

"Yes, Meredith, we're going to adopt you," Grace reassured him.

"Oh. Um…I prefer Rodney…if that's okay…"

"Rodney it is then," James said decidedly.

Rodney gave a tentative smile back, still scared he was going to mess things up, or that they'd turn out to be as bad as his parents. But he didn't think that was the case. John seemed okay, so they couldn't really be bad parents, could they?

For the first time for a long time, he felt hope.

* * *

Three days later, he arrived at his new home. His new apparently permanent home; at least he hoped it would be permanent.

His aunt made him do a lot of tests, but he didn't mind, especially once he got rid of the easy ones and moved onto more challenging tests. It soon became clear to his aunt that in physics and maths Rodney was way ahead of most of his contemporaries, as was his reading age, but in other subjects his knowledge ranged from appalling to not-quite-so-appalling.

She also soon worked out that he was highly intelligent, possibly even a genius, but getting him to study things that he wasn't interested in was hard going, and in the end she worked out a reward system to get him to do so. With the rewards ranging from visiting science exhibits, to being brought a sought after physics or maths book, to more simple things like a trip to Baskin Robbins or Dunkin' Donuts; two places he had rapidly become addicted to and was apparently trying to make up for all of the years he'd been deprived of them for.

John was a big help as well, gently needling his cousin into improving his general knowledge, as well as introducing him to certain cultural treasures, and his aunt used that term loosely, such as comic books. A recent re-run of the old Batman series on TV had turned into a semi-obsession for Rodney, as did the Star Wars films when he finally got to see them.

Socially, however, things were slower going. Introducing him to new people was always risky, as Rodney would either withdraw back into his shell and appear sullen or rude, or else would say things without thinking them through first, causing embarrassment or offence. His distrust was evident to those who got to know him well, but as he hid it behind sarcasm and a biting wit, those who didn't know him well tended to judge him harshly.

* * *

Over the following two years, Rodney started to settle, accepting that his place in the family was permanent and unconditional, and he started to withdraw less and less often. Though when he realised just how ahead of other people he was, intellectually speaking, he developed a rather unfortunate ego, but it was good to see him gain some confidence for all that.

Rodney and John were fast friends, often inseparable, and after Rodney discovered that his cousin was a closet maths geek, they spent many hours solving maths puzzles, each trying to outdo the other. The rivalry, whilst intensely competitive, was also friendly.

John was two years older than Rodney, and when he reached eighteen got a place at a CalTech, intending to get a degree before enrolling with the Air Force. Rodney was also, academically speaking, ready to start college, but his uncle and aunt were concerned about letting him start at sixteen, especially as he had been home schooled. They were unsure if he would be able to adjust to college life; his social skills still left a lot to be desired. It wouldn't help him that he was two years younger than most everyone else there.

After some discussion, they allowed him to go on the understanding that he went to CalTech and stayed in the same dorm as John, and that later they would share an apartment together, claiming it would be less expensive for them that way, as they didn't want Rodney to realise they were worried about his ability to cope.

They could only hope that John would be able to help his cousin adjust, and that if things became too much for Rodney, John would notice and let them know. They were fully prepared for Rodney to struggle and end up dropping out, to try again when he was eighteen.

In the end though, it worked out okay, and Rodney didn't drop out. But he did have some problems.

He didn't fit in with his fellow students and was viewed at best as a freak. John had suggested that he study the interactions between classmates. Of course, he hadn't meant sit there and take notes, which made people think he was some sort of weirdo stalker.

That hadn't worked so well.

John tried to be patient with his cousin hanging around all the time, but it was hard as he tended to gravitate towards the so-called jocks, and they didn't have time for an egotistical misfit. Many times he found himself defending his cousin and losing friends, and the relationship between them started to erode as a result.

It also wasn't helped by the fact that potential girlfriends were put off by his cousin, and eventually John had to ask Rodney not to hang around with him outside of their newly acquired apartment. Rodney understood, though it had hurt at first, and the friendship survived.

But it was still a relief to John when he finally graduated and entered into the Air Force; he could be one of the guys again and not have to worry about his geeky cousin hanging around any.

As for Rodney, he struggled through college life, making few friends, and even those were more like acquaintances. He didn't try to fit in with the crowd after that first year; instead he embraced his differences and personality quirks, pretending to himself that this was what he wanted; that being alone was good and something to be strived for.

He left CalTech the same year that John did, and went to Northeastern to complete his masters and multiple doctorates. He kept himself aloof from the rest, consoling himself with his genius, convincing himself that working alone was the best way to reach his full potential; that he didn't need friends, who would only drag him down to their level. And if people didn't like him and his attitude, then tough; he didn't need their approval. He had his family, and they liked him despite what many would see as flaws and that he now saw as strengths.

He was the best, he didn't need the rest.

It was an attitude that was to lead him into trouble.

The End

A/N:

_1) In case you are wondering; "Travis Air Force Base is an Air Mobility Command (AMC) installation located in Fairfield, CA. The primary mission is to provide rapid, responsive, reliable airlift of forces to any point on earth … and to fulfil the global logistics needs of the Department of Defence in sustaining its world wide activities. It is located midway between Sacramento and San Francisco in northern California…" __(info from the Global Security site_

_2) Baskin Robbins; I don't know what flavours would have been around at the time this story is set, or even if Baskin Robbins was such a big chain at that time, I can only go on the research I did online and today's flavours. Please consider it an AU to reality if necessary! (Also for Dunkin' Donuts, I don't know how long that has been around either – what can I say? I'm British not American!!)_


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